“Well, I don’t feel lightheaded or sick and I’m not swaying or singing, which I do, a lot when I’ve imbibed too much so,” I tried another smile, “evidence is suggesting I’m not shitfaced.”
He aimed his narrow-eyed, knit-browed scowl at my mouth again then it snapped back to my eyes.
Then he growled low, quiet and now ominous, “Shut your mouth…” his neck bent further so his angry face was closer and finished, “future wife.”
He spit out the last word like it tasted foul then straightened and looked at the robed guy again and so did I to see he had fortunately moved onto the next statue.
Hmm. None of that went well. Not any of it. Not even a little bit.
And I was right when I first saw him, he didn’t want to be here at all but, I was getting the impression, especially not with me.
I decided to try again maybe at the reception. Maybe after I had some alcohol and maybe after I got some down him. Maybe he’d loosen up then. Maybe, if I got enough down him, he’d pass out so I could avoid the wedding night, uh… festivities until I could figure out how to avoid the marital consummation on the whole.
In other words, hijack a sleigh and get the f**k out of Dodge.
I stood silent as the robed guy kept talking to statues then finally moved back to stand in front of us then he said a bunch more stuff and at long last, he smiled, put a hand on my shoulder, another one he reached high to put on The Dragon’s shoulder and he nodded up at The Dragon happily.
He dropped his hands and I wondered if that was it or if we would exchange rings or vows and I hoped I didn’t have anything I was supposed to know to say but I didn’t wonder long.
This was because The Dragon turned his fist, it opened and his long fingers engulfed my hand and I realized his big body was turning to me.
I turned to him, tipped my head back to look up and then I felt my stomach drop.
He was smiling, even, beautiful white teeth against tan skin. And his eyes were shining with a light that looked a bizarre and terrifying mixture of wolfish, amused, lethal and heated.
Then he let my hand go and before I knew what was happening, his long, strong arms were wrapped around me, one tight at my waist lifting my feet clean off the floor, hauling me up his body, the fingers of the other driving into my hair to cup the back of my head.
I let out a surprised cry as my hands automatically went to his shoulders to hold on, I vaguely heard a few excited whoops from the church but then he was forcing my head down, his was slanting and… oh God… oh God! – he was going to kiss me!
Nope, he wasn’t going to. He did.
And no sooner had he crashed my mouth down to his when his mouth opened, his tongue forced my lips open and he kissed me.
Deep, rough, hard, wet and oh so very hungry.
And last, but definitely not least, skillful.
I didn’t know this guy and he scared the living daylights out of me but that did not take one iota away from the fact that the man could freaking kiss.
It was the best kiss I’d ever had. By far.
Wow.
His head jerked back, tearing his mouth from mine and I stared down at him dazed.
I was wrong. He wasn’t scary. He was totally, freaking hot.
I heard but yet didn’t hear the calls, shouts, clapping and whoops as the daze of his kiss slid away from me and I saw I had wrapped my arms around his neck and he was looking up at me, again scary-pissed but now also guarded-pissed.
What?
Then he dropped me so heavily on my feet, I instantly had to brace so my knees wouldn’t buckle. I barely got my legs under control when his hand gripped mine and he was dragging me down the aisle.
Yes, dragging me.
Uh-oh.
I had to run to keep up with his long strides as I heard my father shout from behind me, “Drakkar! What are you doing? Where are you going? The celebration!”